Ringer, Season 2
by Bienvenue a Bikini Bottom
Summary: This is my take on Season 2. Please review!
1. I'm Danny Danny Reeb

**Ringer, Season 2**

**Hey guys! So I just finished the first season of Ringer and I have to say that I'm extremely disappointed it got canceled. After reading everything I could get my hands on about what could possibly happen in season 2, I've decided to write my own fic, thanks to the encouragement of everyone who has written them before me. Everyone reading go check out the others on this site!**

**Chapter One: "I'm Danny. Danny Reeb." **

Bridget collapsed on the steps in front of Henry's apartment and burst into tears. She couldn't believe it. Her heart was pounding. Siobhan had actually wanted her dead! After all the hoping and praying that Siobhan had forgiven her, in reality, her sister had done no such thing. In fact, she had gone out of her way to try to have her killed. She couldn't believe it. She was hurt, her heart ripped to absolute shreds. As she continued to cry, Solomon approached and sat down next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said. "It'll be ok."

Bridget sniffed. She knew he was just trying to be optimistic, but it wasn't working.

"No it won't," she said, almost muffling the sound of her voice with her sniffling. "She hated me. Siobhan _hated _me, after everything I tried to do for her. After all the times I asked for forgiveness, she wanted me dead." She broke down and began sobbing into his shoulder.

They sat there for a few more minutes, Solomon lost for words, letting Bridget cry into his arms.

Finally, he spoke. "Let's get you back to the Sheridans."

She piped up and eagerly wiped the tears from her eyes. "N-no," she sniffed again. "We…have to tell Andrew that Siobhan's alive. He has to know. I'm not keeping anymore secrets from him."

And before Solomon could object, she had hopped into the passenger's seat of his limo, waiting for him to take her straight to the Hamptons. That was the other thing. Andrew. He and Juliet were the loves of her life. She couldn't let them get hurt by Siobhan, no matter how much they hated her.

As Solomon consented and drove out of the city, Bridget set her head against the window, continuing to let the tears fall. She had so much on her mind. Siobhan and Andrew and Juliet were all her family, and yet, they all couldn't stand her. She wouldn't be surprised if Andrew wanted her dead now, too.

Finally, after two hours of driving, they finally reached Andrew Martin's beach house, a beautiful place, right next to the Atlantic Ocean, with white walls and a beautiful chandelier in the living room that Bridget loved to admire. As she got out of the limo, she listened as the waves crashed against the beach, in the dark. She got up her courage and walked straight to the door, pounding as hard as she could.

* * *

Andrew couldn't sleep. He had been awake all night. Ever since Agent Machado had called and told him about Bodoway Macawi's break-in at the apartment, he was conflicted. He had thought that it was over, that he would never think of Bridget Kelly again after the moment he told her to leave, but now, all he could do was worry about her. His mind was racing: Was she hurt? What was she doing with a gun? Were her feelings about him genuine? There were so many questions that he needed answers to, but he couldn't call her. He was too prideful.

He lay in his bed, trying to sleep, but it was no use. Instead, he got up to get a glass of water from downstairs. He was halfway down the stairs when a loud thud came from the direction of the front door.

"Andrew! Andrew!" a familiar voice rang out from behind the door. "I need to talk to you! Please let me in."

For a split second, he thought about calling the police, but then realized that it was none of their business. He could handle her all by himself.

He opened the door cautiously, and found himself staring into the tear-streamed face of Bridget Kelly.

"Andrew!" she said. "I know you don't want to see me right now, but I have to tell you: Siobhan's alive and in New York." She stepped onto the threshold and waved something in his face. He realized it to be a DVD.

"Here," she said. "This is surveillance footage from the harbor. She didn't drown that day. She left me on the boat and went off with John DeLario. Look."

She tried to rush over to the television and turn on the DVD player, but Andrew stopped her. He stood in front of her, blocking her entrance to anywhere else.

"No," he said. "I'm not letting you trick me again. Leave my house. Now."

He knew his eyes were cold, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't going to let this woman take him for a fool anymore. She had done it for seven months, and that was good enough.

"She's telling the truth, Mr. Martin," Solomon, her body guard, was right behind her. 'I found the footage myself."

Andrew shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't believe either of you. You," he looked at Solomon sternly, "could be working with her. I want you both to leave."

But, Bridget was stubborn. "I'm not leaving until you hear me out," she said. "Siobhan is alive. She faked her death because she wanted me to die in her place."

Andrew froze. "What?" he asked. "Why would she do that?"

His heart grew even colder, not with hatred for Bridget, but for his wife. He still didn't know if he could trust Bridget, but if what she were saying was true, how could Siobhan be so heartless? His mind was racing. Was Bridget telling the truth? After all, she could have been trying to make an excuse for him to take her back. Before he could make up his mind, she answered.

"Because of what I did to Sean," she finally said, tears streaming down her face. "Sean was Siobhan's son. He died in a car crash, and Siobhan always blamed me for it because I let him go out with his father that night."

She began to sob uncontrollably, her whole body shaking, when Solomon put his arm around her.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go."

"No," she protested, and pulled herself together long enough to turn to Andrew. "You have to know. She…she was pregnant, with twins. Remember, back in September, when I got the call from the hospital? It was for her. She was really pregnant. Henry…Henry told me that he had a paternity test done and that it came back negative." Andrew's heart stopped. "I don't know if they're yours, but you have to know. He told me she gave birth at Good Shepherd Memorial Hospital and that she signed in under the name Rebecca Sheldrake."

There was a long silence, before Andrew made up his mind. His mind continued to race. He could have more children? He couldn't believe it.

"You need to go," he finally said.

She nodded. "I understand, but before I do, here." She took off the wedding ring and engagement ring that Andrew had given her a few months ago. "You'll need these back," she said as they dropped in the palm of his hand. "I hope you know that I never pretended to love you or Juliet. I promise, you two will always be in my heart."

She turned slowly, with Solomon right behind her, and walked out the door, leaving Andrew in the dark. As he watched her walk down the pathway, his eyes filled with tears.

* * *

Two weeks went by, and Bridget found herself a job at a diner on Fifth Avenue. The pay wasn't much at all, minimum wage, to be exact, but it was a start. What more could she have gotten without a college degree and no credentials to speak of? It was a small place, little known in the area, but it had a nice atmosphere. Maggie, the owner of the store, was a kind older woman who had given Bridget a place to stay once she got the job. Everyone she worked with seemed supportive of her, and no one asked questions about her past. In fact, all they knew was that she had recently gone through a bad break-up, and that was that. That was all she would tell them.

One day, as she was waiting tables, she came across a group of construction workers, dirty to the bone with sweat and grime. One of them, a tall muscular man with dark blond hair and striking blue eyes, seemed particularly interested in Bridget from the moment she had walked over to their table.

"I'm Danny," he said as she sat down a plate filled with a large Reuben sandwich and fries in front of him, "Danny Reeb."

That was odd, she thought. Men didn't just give out their last names to any woman. She knew instantly that he had an ulterior motive, and she wasn't too keen on it.

"Well, nice to meet you, Danny," she said politely, brushing a loose piece of blonde hair behind her ear.

He had obviously taken that as a flirty gesture, whoops, and started talking to her about his work. Before she knew it, she had to move on to other tables, and left him there to watch her. But, he wasn't offended. In fact, the next day, he came back and asked her for her phone number.

Ugh. This life was going to get some getting used to.


	2. We're All Gonna Try It

**Ringer, Season 2**

**Chapter Two: "We're All Gonna Try It"**

"I don't have a cell phone," Bridget said honestly as she rearranged the silverware on the table opposite Danny. It was the truth. All she had was a cheap landline, which was a number she didn't want to give out.

"Alright, then," he persisted. "I'll give you my number, you know, in case you want to call from a pay phone or something." He took a fresh napkin out of the holder and grabbed a pen from his pocket. When he was done writing, he handed it to her. "I gotta go, but I'll be in touch." He took one last swing of his coffee and rose from the table.

As he left, Bridget looked down at the number in her hands, thinking about what she should do with it. Could she start a new relationship so soon after everything with Andrew? Some people thought so.

"He's a fine boy," said Megan that day after Bridget's shift had ended. Bridget looked at her, taken aback. How could Megan know about Danny? "I saw him give you his number," she replied, noticing the look on Bridget's face. "Anyway, I know him. He's been coming here for years. A real loyal customer. You should get to know him." And with that, she walked back into the kitchen.

Bridget sighed as she left the diner and went out into the night. She didn't know. Could any man measure up to Andrew?

* * *

There had been no peace for Juliet in the past two weeks. She couldn't believe it. She had always wanted a mother who loved her, and she had had the idiocy to believe that she'd finally found it in Bridget. She had been the best woman Juliet had ever known. Half of her wanted to find wherever Bridget was and smack her, while the other half wanted nothing more than to hug her. She didn't know what to do. She was hurt, she was lonely, she was desperate. She hadn't believed her father when he gave that whole spiel about her and him against the world, because, truthfully, she knew it would never happen. They had already started to sink back into the lives that they'd had before Bridget, their lonely, distant lives. Andrew was just as miserable as she was, although she knew he was afraid to show it.

That day, after school, her good friend Andrea came up to her locker.

"Hey," she said. "You seem sad lately. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Juliet remarked as she slammed her locker shut. She just wanted to go home and cry, just like she had been doing every other day.

"Well, listen," said Andrea. "Melissa's having a party tonight at six and I was wondering if you wanted to come. We could hang out at my house until then. You in?"

Juliet shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "I just want to be alone."

"But, you've _been_ alone," said Andrea. "Every day, you've been going straight home after school. I'm starting to worry about you. Come on, Tessa and Holland are gonna be there. You'll have fun. You need to get out."

Juliet thought about it for a moment. Yeah, she did need to get out. Maybe it would be a good idea for her to have some fun. It would sure beat sitting in silence with her father for the fifteenth night in a row.

So, she consented. Andrea drove them to Melissa's apartment, an old run-down place with enough trash outside to fill up a dump.

"What an odd place for a party," Juliet said, really only to herself, but Andrea heard it.

"Yeah, I know," her friend said. "I don't really like it much, either."

As they got out of the car, the first scent to hit Juliet's nostrils wasn't the smell of garbage, but the smell of weed. It was so strong that she could feel herself getting high already.

"Where did Melissa get this stuff?" she asked Andrea as they made their way inside the apartment. Luckily, her apartment was on the first floor, so it wasn't like they had to walk a great distance, which was good for Juliet. She was really going to pass out if she had to walk any further.

"No idea," replied Andrea. "Her parents are out of town for the weekend."

Of course. Loud music was blaring, and people were already starting to chew each other's faces off. It was that instant that Juliet suddenly regretted coming. She had no idea that it would be _this _kind of party, and to give Andrea the benefit of the doubt, she probably hadn't known, either.

"I think we should leave," said Juliet, but Andrea didn't hear her. She was already over in the kitchen talking to Melissa.

"Hey Juliet," Melissa said, "How are you? I haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm good," said Juliet, looking toward the dining room. There were five people, sitting on the table, making out. "I-I…think I should leave," she stuttered. She knew this was a bad environment.

"Oh come on," said Melissa. "You just got here, and we were about to have some fun."

She pulled Juliet over to the island in the middle of the kitchen, where two of her friends were waiting.

"Here," she said, taking something out of a black bag that was sitting on the island. "It'll be fun."

Juliet had expected it to be pot, but instead, what Melissa pulled out of the bag was a needle.

"We're all gonna try it," she said. "You in?"

Part of her said no, while the other half was begging to try it. She had tried crank, crack, meth, coke, all sorts of drugs, but never heroin. She knew it was wrong, but she needed something to mask the pain of everything that had happened the past seven months. She needed to stamp out Bridget, Siobhan, and her mother, Catherine. She needed to get rid of her father and all the pain he was causing her.

So, she tried it and had the time of her life.

* * *

It had been a long day for Andrew. He had gotten home from work, and proceeded to finish getting rid of all that reminded him of Siobhan, all of her pictures and all of her clothes. He didn't want any trace of her in his house, his new house, the one that had been recently renovated to remove all traces of the Bodaway Macawi attack. A few days before, Andrew had gone to Good Shepherd Memorial Hospital to see if there really were babies. He hadn't wanted to do it, but something in the back of his mind told him to go. So, he did, and talking to the main receptionist, he found the record. Bridget had been telling the truth. There had been twin girls delivered to a woman named Rebecca Sheldrake via Cesarean section. Their names were Portia and Regan, but there was no telling where they were because the mother did not leave a home address, so he couldn't do a paternity test.

It brought him to a dead end, so he began the next best thing, and starting getting rid of all of Siobhan's things. He had wanted to burn them, but decided against it, as that would be too much trouble, so he packed everything in boxes and planned on taking them to a second-hand clothing store. He didn't care how rich the clothes were. Someone less fortunate could certainly find them useful. The last thing he came to was a photograph taken on New Year's 2012. He knew instantly that it wasn't a picture of Siobhan that he was holding, but one of Bridget. He had no idea what to do with it. He stared at it for a long time, thinking of what he should do. He thought about all the good times he had had with Bridget and wondered if there was any truth to them at all. Finally, he made his decision, and placed it in the box.

* * *

Siobhan was very much in a pickle, more than she could ever say. Here she was, Siobhan Martin, once a rich and powerful woman, now in a homeless shelter filled with a bunch of disgusting people. Nuns, of all things! The worst of the worst. She had no idea what to do. Her children lay on blankets in the middle of her room because she couldn't afford to pay for cribs. She had to get her old life back somehow.

But, how?

Would it be a success if she were to walk back into Andrew's penthouse and try to reclaim her life as Siobhan? What would she do about Bridget? She sat down in a chair near the window and thought. If she were go to straight back to the penthouse, hold Bridget hostage, and then call the police on Bridget, then she could have Bridget arrested for something, maybe theft? Then, she could simply claim that Bridget had broken into the house, and then resume her life as Siobhan Martin. She could then take her money and find a way to rid herself of Andrew.

Maybe should could have him murdered.

But, what would she do about the babies? She looked at them, so small and sweet, and so like Andrew. The more she looked at them, the sicker she got. They were turning into him. His curly dark hair, his chocolate brown eyes, even his cleft chin, were all beginning to show. God! Why couldn't they have been Henry's? Now, she would have to spend the rest of her life knowing that she had given birth to Andrew Martin's children. Could she give them up for adoption? That might actually work, then he wouldn't need to know anything.

_Yes_, she thought. _That was a plan._


	3. Would you like to go to the Natural Hist

**Ringer, Season 2**

**Please review to help me make this story better. I haven't gotten any so far and I'm started to get sad. Please help me, guys!  
**

**Chapter Three: "Would you like to go to the natural history museum with me?" **

After cleaning out all of Siobhan's belongings, Andrew called Juliet to see when she was coming home, but there was no answer. He tried calling again, but this time, the phone went straight to voice mail. He figured she was at a friend's house, as she had always had a habit of going places without telling him, so he didn't worry too much.

Not until she got home at three o'clock in the morning.

"Where have you been?" he asked sternly, rising from his chair. "I've been calling you for hours, Juliet. Why didn't you tell me where you were going?"

He tried to look her in the eye, but she wasn't having it.

"I went to Andrea's house, Daddy," she said, her voice low and drawn. Her whole body was shaking. When she moved her long brown hair out of her face, he could see that her eyes were bloodshot.

"What did you do?" he was panicked now, and he didn't even need an answer from her. He knew what she had been doing, something she hadn't done in months. He thought she was over it. He thought she would never go back. The night he saw Bridget pulling her hair back, comforting her as she vomited into the toilet, he thought she would never do drugs again, but he was wrong.

He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. "What did you take?"

She shook her head. "I didn't take anything." She turned and dashed into her room, bolting the door behind her.

He didn't know what to do. He had to call a rehab center, he knew, but where would he find one? And what would he do once he found one?

* * *

The next day, Siobhan went to the store the homeless shelter had initiated and sold her clothes, purse, and jewelry. She got forty thousand dollars, enough to pay for a hitman, and she knew just where to get one.

* * *

When Bridget got to work that day, the diner was bustling, but Danny was waiting for her, sitting in his usual table, drinking his usual black coffee.

"Hello," he said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing alright," she said as she clocked in on the register, although she had barely slept all night. She had lied awake and thought about the consequences of dating another man. What would she tell him about her past? Would she ever allow intimacy in her relationship?

"Well, good," he took a sip of his coffee. "Listen, I wondering if you would like to go to the natural history museum in Central Park on Saturday afternoon? It's my day off, and I was planning on going." He looked at her for confirmation, but she didn't know what to say. Everything was going too fast. Instead of responding, she began wiping down the counter.

But, Danny was persistent, of course. "So, would you?"

"I don't know," she finally said irritably. "My last relationship" (if she could even call it that) "ended very badly, and I don't know if I'm ready to start another one just yet. Besides, I really need to get to work."

She went to the next table and took the couples' order. They were an older couple who looked like they'd been together for years. Just her luck, getting the true lovers. But, anyway, she took their orders without complaint and brought the receipt back to the chef so he could cook their meals. That was her routine for the entire day, barring her break time, in which she thought more about the consequences of starting a new relationship. Finally, she decided. Danny seemed to be a very nice guy, and now she had nothing to hide, so why not go out with him? Besides, she had to get her thoughts off Andrew. She couldn't keep moping around about him. She had to be strong and get on with her life. She would have to take everything slow, of course, but there was no harm in going to the museum. So, when Danny came back at three for his usual coffee and Reuben meal, she gave him her answer.

"Yes," she said as soon as he sat down. "I'll go to the museum with you."

* * *

It was nine o'clock by the time Andrew and Juliet made it to the right rehab facility. He had been on the phone since six o'clock that morning looking for one that specialized in drugs and narcotics. Juliet had been screaming all the way, saying that she didn't need a rehab center and wanted to go home. She made a big scene at the entrance to the treatment center (so much so that everyone was staring), but Andrew persisted. He checked her in and the first step for the psychiatrist after being admitted was to perform a psychological evaluation.

The psychiatrist was a young looking woman with big glasses, red lipstick, and frizzy hair, not at all attractive, but she knew what she was doing. After about thirty minutes, she had determined that Juliet was clinically depressed and told Andrew that Juliet would need to stay for a few days. She asked Juliet about the source of her depression, which neither Andrew nor Juliet was willing to respond to. Andrew knew what the depression was from. Siobhan and Bridget, of course, but he couldn't say anything, and neither, apparently, could Juliet. She sat there, pretending like she had no idea what was wrong with her.

"It's nothing," she kept saying. "I don't know why I'm so depressed. I just am."

Andrew was crushed. He didn't want his little girl to deal with this, but what else could he do? He put his arm around her and tried to comfort her, but to no end. It was obvious that she didn't want his love or his company. But, he knew what she did want: a mother.

* * *

Officer Towers walked straight into Sergeant Kipper's office as soon as he'd heard the news.

"We need to arrest Henry Butler," he said. "We have proof, undeniable proof, that he murdered Tyler Barrett."


	4. I Am Not An Addict

**Ringer, Season 2**

**Chapter Four: I'm Not An Addict**

As Tim Arbogast came out of his office later that afternoon, the secretary, Claudine, ran up to him.

"I tried to buzz you several times, sir sir," she said, "I think there's something wrong with the intercom. But, the police are on the phone for you."

Arbogast's face paled. He could feel it. But, he thought he had saved Martin/Charles from being found out. There was no way the police could suspect the company anymore.

"Why?" he asked her slowly, a bit irritably.

"It's your son-in-law," Claudine responded. "They're trying to arrest him, but they can't find him."

"What? What do you mean?" But, before she could respond, Arbogast grabbed the phone from her hand. "What's going on?" he shouted into the phone without preamble. "What do you mean you can't find Henry Butler?" Had the bastard taken away his grandchildren?

"Well, Mr. Arbogast," said the voice on the other end of the line, "we went to his brownstone on Gramercy, but it had been completed cleaned out. We were wondering if you knew where he was?"

"Of course not," Arbogast bellowed angrily, "but, why are you arresting him? What did he do?"

"We found a lead in the Tyler Barrett case," the man said. "We re-examined the evidence and found that the detective at the crime scene found a foreign hair that was never tested for DNA before April, so we had the test done and the results came back just today. It was Butler's."

Arbogast was shocked. Well, not completely shocked, after all, it had been he who turned Butler into the police in the first place, but he wasn't charged. After that, Arbogast never really believed they would find any more evidence. But, now, he was almost happy to hear it.

"I'll see how I can help," he said. "Claudine," he turned to the young woman, "have Jeffries hold down the fort until Martin comes in. I'm going to try to find some answers of my own."

* * *

Rather than drop Andrew's daughters off at an adoption agency, Siobhan left them in the nursery of the homeless shelter, promising the nuns that she would be back soon, but not meaning it. After she left, she was able to find a hotel to rest her head for a few days until she could further her plan to get her life back. She chose the Mercer Hotel on Mercer Street. It wasn't exactly her kind of fancy, but it was good enough. She didn't want to spend too much money, after all, since she had to save up some to hire the hitman, and she didn't have enough time to look forever for a place to stay. She had to make up her mind as to what she wanted to do.

As she sat down on her bed, re-runs of Smallville on TNT playing in the background, she tried to think of a good way to get inside her penthouse. After all, it was _her _penthouse, not Bridget's. She decided that the best plan of action would be to watch Bridget's movements in and out of the apartment to see when she came and went. That way, when Andrew was gone, Siobhan could hold Bridget hostage and eventually have her arrested. Of course, that meant she might have to find a gun. She wished she still had her old one, but she had sold it a while back.

Oh well, now, she would have to improvise.

* * *

After the evaluation with the psychiatrist, Juliet was not in a good mood. Why would her father send her to a place like this? She didn't need it. It was just one shot of heroin and a few joints. She could fix herself.

Now, she had to go spend the next two days in this place.

Andrew seemed to be fine with it, but Juliet knew his real motive. He was just trying to get her out of the house so that he wouldn't have to deal with her and all her antics, which she didn't have. She was perfectly fine.

The psychiatrist led her over to another waiting area, where she would have to stay until she was allowed to attend a meeting with other addicts, which she wasn't. She wasn't any addict. She was a human being, and she didn't deserve to be here.

The door opened and she was forced to say good-bye to her father, who was standing next to her. Well, he said good-bye. She didn't even look at him. She was angry that he forced her to be here.

The room Juliet entered was probably one of the largest in the building, although, granted, she hadn't been in all of them yet. It had four white walls and tiled floors that made Juliet's feet echo as she stepped inside. There were chairs lined up along the walls, which was supposedly the waiting area portion of the room, while in the very middle of the room was a circle of chairs filled with all sorts of people. They must have been having their own meeting. As Juliet got closer, a stout woman with curly brown hair stood up and introduced herself.

"I'm Sharon," she said.

Juliet knew where this was going, "I'm Juliet," she said, "But, unlike everyone else here, I'm not an addict."

* * *

When Andrew left Juliet in the waiting room, he was irreversibly sad. He didn't want to leave her there, but he knew he had to. He wasn't going to let her get turned into a drug addict. He was going to have all of that stamped out of her, no matter how hard it was. He knew in the back of his mind that he might have been over-reacting, but he didn't care. He had to make sure Juliet would be ok.

As he walked out of the center and into the street, he couldn't help thinking of Bridget and all of her struggles. Could she have felt the same way Juliet had? Lost and confused and drugs being the only way out? But, then, his mind snapped back as soon as the thoughts had come. Why was he thinking of her? He had no reason to. She was no longer part of his life.

The truth was that she was always in the back of his mind and he couldn't get her out, no matter how hard he tried. When got to the office, Claudine informed him of the situation with Henry Butler and Tim Arbogast's absence.

"He wanted you to be in charge as soon as you got here," she said.

* * *

Meanwhile, Bridget was on her break at work and decided to get a cup of coffee. She sat down in one of the booths and poured a heaping amount of sugar and cream into her mug, as she liked her coffee extra sweet, something that Andrew always found amusing.

_Andrew._

She put her hands around the cup and brought it up to her lips. She was suddenly reminded of the times when she and Andrew would have tea together during his lunch break. It was delightful, but she had to remember that Andrew was in her past. She had to move forward somehow.

"May I sit with you?"

She looked up, startled, into the smiling face of Danny. "I just came in for a quick cup," he said, "but I didn't know you had your break this early."

"Yeah," she said. "We get our breaks early so we can take care of the rush at lunchtime. But, yeah, you can sit down."

He sat down and let out a big sigh. "I've already done so much today. We just started laying out the dry wall for the new drugstore down on Fifth, and I cut my palm."

He leaned in and showed her his rough, dirty hands. Sure enough, there was gauze across his left palm.

"Ouch," said Bridget. "It looks like it hurt."

"Yeah, it did," but he changed the subject, "so I'm really excited about the museum."

She nodded. "So am I." Well, she _was_ excited to be going to a museum, as she had yet to go to one in New York, but she wasn't quite sure about going with Danny. To be honest, it would probably be better if she went by herself, but she was too polite to say no to his invitation.

One of the other waitresses, Annette, came by and took Danny's order.

"Just black coffee," he said. "I've gotta get going soon, so I can't have too much."

They talked for a few more minutes after his coffee arrived.. Bridget asked him about his family and background. As it turned out, he was a native-born Georgian, raised in Atlanta.

"So, what are you doing in New York?" Bridget asked, very curious.

"I don't know," he said. "Opportunity?" Then, he chuckled. "Well, maybe not. I just wanted to see something new, I guess."

"How long have you lived here?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"About three years," he said. "I've been doing construction since I was a boy, though. I love it. It's great exercise, and I just love building things."

He looked at the clock over the kitchen door. "Well, I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with a swift smile, he drained his cup and left.


	5. I Want Bridget Back

**Ringer, Season 2**

**Hey guys! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favorite thus far! I really appreciated the feedback!**

**Chapter Five: I want Bridget Back**

The next day, Bridget arrived at work at six A.M. sharp to Megan and Annette giggling as they set up the diner for breakfast. It was oddly cold outside today, so much so that Bridget's hands were practically frozen as she bumbled with her name tag.

"So, what's going on with you and Danny?" Annette asked sheepishly as she turned on the coffee pot.

"What do you mean, 'what's going on?'?" asked Bridget, still trying to pin her name tag to her dark blue button-down. "He's just taking me to the museum tomorrow."

"Well, it sounds like a date to me," said Annette, twirling her brown hair. "I can tell he really likes you."

"Yeah," said Megan, "he keeps asking about you when you're not here and saying what a sweet girl you are. You really ought to give him a chance."

"I am," said Bridget, not understanding where this was going, "I just told you, we're going to the museum tomorrow."

"I just mean you really have to let him in. He really likes you," said Megan, her cheeks flushing red.

"Who knows?" said Annette. "He might just be the one for you."

_Maybe, _Bridget thought, but she didn't want to get carried away too fast. It had only been two weeks since she had seen Andrew. She needed to take things slow with Danny. In fact, thinking about it now, she was starting to regret going to the museum with him.

* * *

"I want Bridget back," were the first words to come out of Juliet's mouth when she entered her home after her very brief stint in the rehab facility. She had done a lot of thinking while she was there, regardless of what a short time it was, and came to the conclusion that she loved Bridget. Bridget was the only true mother she had ever known. She had been there for her through thick and thin, and no matter what, still loved her. She would have never just shoved Juliet in rehab like her father did. Being an addict herself, Bridget would have known how to deal with drugs and alcohol. She would have known how to help Juliet, if indeed she really did have a problem, which, of course, she didn't.

Andrew turned around as the elevator door opened, shocked. "What?" he asked.

"I said 'I want Bridget back,'" Juliet repeated, staring into her father's eyes. "She made us better, Daddy. She did, and I did a horrible thing by saying she was worse than Mom. You have to find her and bring her back to us. Please."

"No, no," Andrew said immediately. "She's not coming back in this house. She lied to us. All of that was a lie."

"No, Daddy. It wasn't. Look at all she did for us. Now that she's gone, we're right back where we were: nothing but a depressed, dysfunctional family. You know it. You just don't want to admit it."

"Juliet—" he started.

"Who cares if she lied, Daddy? She was just trying to protect herself. Look at me. I'm the girl who cried rape, and you didn't kick me out of the house. And what about you? I'm sure you've lied just as bad."

Her father was speechless, but nevertheless, he shook his head and turned away. "No," he finally said.

"Fine!" she shouted. "Just be that way, all angry and full of bitterness, not caring about anyone but yourself. Just keep shoving me away! You're a horrible father and I _hate _you!" Juliet ran into her room again and slammed the door. IF she couldn't find a way to get him to see clearly, then she would get him back, anyway.

* * *

After he heard his daughter slam the door, Andrew went over to the sink for a glass of water. He pulled the glass out of the cupboard, he filled it to the brim, but he couldn't drink it. What Juliet said burned his heart. He _had _lied. He had defrauded so many clients with his smooth talk and suave, debonair manner. He had stolen millions upon millions of dollars from them, and through it all, even after she found out, Bridget had been willing to stay with him. So, why couldn't he do the same with her?

He couldn't come to a conclusion as he stood over the sink, staring at a sunlit spot on the counter. Instead, he thought back to that day in the loft where he was shot. He remembered his words to Bridget: _What we have is worth the pain. _Was it true? Had they really had something worthwhile?

Because he did love her. Everything he thought she was, he loved. Everything about her made him warm and happy, unlike the real Siobhan, whose heart was nothing but a cold block of ice. He remembered the day he came home from the hospital after he was shot. For four days, he could do nothing but lay in bed, and she took care of him. Most importantly, she was happy to do it. Her smile said it all. Siobhan never would have done that. She probably would have hired a nurse and gone off to sleep with Henry Butler. No doubt that was what she would have done. Why couldn't he have seen the difference in the two the first time Bridget had kissed him? He remembered that day vividly. He had just arrived home from London, and there she came, out of the blue, with a kiss for him, something Siobhan hadn't done in what felt like forever. How could he have been so stupid?

Still, after all that, his heart still went out to her. He still loved her, so why couldn't he find her? Why couldn't he track her down and beg, on his knees, for forgiveness? He didn't know. Half of him wished he could just move on, the other half wanted her desperately.

He wanted to distract himself, so he went to sit on the couch. He turned on the television, and saw something he wasn't expecting at all. It was a very brief news cap, but it made the news nonetheless:

Henry Butler had been arrested for the murder of Tyler Barrett.

* * *

The New York Police Department had spent an entire day trying to track him down. They had gone to his home on Gramercy Avenue, and as it had been cleaned out, they asked the owner of the brownstones if he had left a new address. Upon hearing the word "no," Officer Towers decided to check in with Butler's family, and found that he had a sister, a realtor, in Chicago who owned several rental properties.

Bingo.

They had found Butler hiding in one of those houses, a large brick house with four chimneys and a rose garden, the first one they checked. So, at two o'clock in the morning, Henry Butler was arrested and charged with murder.

* * *

That night, as Siobhan watched the news, she couldn't believe what she saw. She was afraid for him. She wanted to get him out somehow, to find the best lawyers in the county to defend him. And she realized, sitting there, that she would have the power, as soon as Andrew and Bridget were dead.


	6. I Told You We Were Over

**Ringer, Season 2**

**Hello everyone! So I've gotten a review stating "no more Danny." Well, Danny serves a very important part in the story, at least for a while, so he's going to be in here a little while longer. But, don't worry, Andrew and Bridget will meet soon enough.**** Thanks for reading and please review!**

**Chapter Six: I Told You We Were Over**

Immediately after seeing the broadcast on the news, Siobhan went over to the police station to see Henry. Her mind was buzzing. She had wanted nothing more than to see him for weeks now. She couldn't wait to kiss him, to hold him in her arms. Her Henry, her love, the man of her dreams. When she made it to the station, she was not afraid to introduce herself to the chief as Siobhan Martin, but she was afraid for him to somehow contact Andrew. So, instead, she introduced herself as Rebecca Sheldrake, a cousin of Henry. Hopefully, the chief wouldn't care and apparently, he didn't, because he let her see him. The room Henry was housed in was dingy and grimy, with no clean air for him to breathe. Upon seeing it, Siobhan was tempted to take a handkerchief and pass it to him, but as soon as she made eye contact with him, all her thoughts of cleanliness faded.

"Henry!" she shouted as she took hold of the bars of the cell. "Are you alright?"

But, instead of being happy to see her, as she had hoped, he glared at her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low. "I told you we were over."

"No, Henry," she said, hoping that he would see the love she held for him in her eyes. "We're not over. I can make this right."

But, he turned away, unmoved. "Go away," he said. "I don't want to see you anymore."

However, being a stubborn woman, Siobhan had made up her mind that she wouldn't be going anywhere until he heard her out.

"Henry, I told you before," she said. "Everything that I'm doing is for _us, _and I can make it right." She lowered her voice, but luckily, no one was around to hear them and there were no security cameras, as this was only a temporary holding cell for the night. "Once Andrew and Bridget are gone, I'll have all the money I need to get you a good lawyer and a good defense, and we'll be home free. Don't you worry."

As she had expected, that got his attention, but for the wrong reasons. His head snapped around to look at her, an even more deathly glare in his eyes.

"I told you to leave them _alone_!" he whispered. "Let them live their lives, Siobhan. It's over for us, but they still have a chance."

No, they didn't. Not after she was done with them.

"You don't understand, Henry," she said adamantly. "With them gone, our lives will be perfect. You'll see. I have a plan: I'm going to the penthouse on Monday. I'll confront Bridget, have her arrested, and claim my life back as Siobhan Martin. Then, I'll get rid of Andrew. I promise. You'll be happy that I did it."

But, Henry shook his head. "I hope you burn in hell," and with that, he turned his back to her, refusing to speak another word.

As Siobhan left the station, both angry and frustrated, she contemplated wanting Henry in her life. Should she help him after all if he didn't want her? It was his own fault he was stupid enough to go to a place where the police would find him, regardless of whether or not he thought they would still be looking for him. In fact, she bet she knew why he really had gone to Chicago: to get away from her. He wanted to be as far away from her as possible after all she had done, but what did she care? She could get her revenge without him.

* * *

Bridget got off work on Saturday at one o'clock after having worked a nine hour shift. She was so exhausted that all she wanted to do was lie in her not-so-comfy bed and go to sleep, but she couldn't forget about her date with Danny. Oh no, there was no way she could forget about that, especially not after Annette had reminded her about it practically all day. She had even taken Bridget shopping at K-Mart the night before to pick out a "nice" outfit for the occasion.

Once she entered her apartment, Bridget decided to soak her feet in the tub. The apartment in which she lived was located above the diner and was probably in one of the worst shapes any place could ever be in. All the doors creaked, there were stains on the carpet, ants in the kitchen, and no heat or air conditioning. Worst of all was the plumbing. It was almost nonexistent, as the pipes were always clogged. But, as Bridget didn't have any money as of yet (she was a few days away from getting her first pay check), she would have to deal with it. Everything in the apartment, from the bed to the couch, had been purchased for her by Solomon. He had offered to pay her rent as well, but she couldn't accept any more from him. It was bad enough that he was her only ally, but to live off of him as a charity case, she couldn't handle it.

After letting the temperature adjust for about about a minute, she took off her shoes and placed her feet underneath the hot water. She didn't know how long she sat there, but it was long enough for her feet to shrivel into prunes and for there to be a knock at the door. It had to be Danny.

"Just a second," she called out. She yanked her feet out of the water and stumbled toward the door.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Danny," a familiar voice called back.

"Ok," she opened the door. There stood Danny, and boy, did he clean up good. He was wearing a navy blue polo shirt and freshly ironed khaki pants. His face was as clean as a whistle, bringing an even brighter light to his eyes, and his hair was neatly washed and combed back.

Bridget blushed. "I'm sorry I'm not ready yet," she said. "Come in and I'll be ready in just a second."

He stepped inside and looked around the room. "You have—"

"A dump of a house, I know," she finished for him. 'But, don't worry; once I get paid I'm going to fix it up really nicely."

He smiled. "Actually, I was going to say you have a very pleasant-looking house. I've seen a lot worse apartments, believe me."

She just rolled her eyes playfully and started to head back to her room. "You can sit on the couch if you'd like. Sorry I don't have a T.V. or anything."

She went back to her closet to put on her outfit. It was a dark green button-down top with long sleeves and jeans with jeweled butterflies on the back. So, it wasn't much of a romantic outfit, certainly like nothing she had ever worn as Siobhan, but it was nice enough. She came out of her room and did a mock twirl as she entered the living room.

"So, how do I look?" she asked Danny, who was perched on the couch.

"Lovely," he said as he stood up. The word made Bridget's stomach turn. "Lovely" was a very British term, something Andrew had used quite often. "I really like the green. It brings out the blue in your eyes."

"Oh, thank you," she said, trying to block Andrew's memory from her mind. "Are you ready to go?"

"If you are," he said. He smiled and held out his arm, as though they were about to go dancing. She smiled back and obliged.

Danny led her outside to his red Toyota pick-up truck, not at all what Bridget was expecting. In fact, she had been expecting a taxi, not his own car.

"Nice truck," she said as he held the door open for her. As she sat down, she could smell the pine air freshener and noticed how ironically clean the car was.

"Yeah, I just got it cleaned," he responded as soon as he hopped in the driver's seat and started the ignition. "I figured it should look nice for you." He smiled.

He was really trying to impress her. That much was obvious, but was she impressed? She would have to think about it. However, she found that she was very impressed by the museum. It was a very large museum, occupying 1,600,000 square feet (according to the brochure that Bridget received upon entering the building) and had seven exhibition halls. Unfortunately, the museum closed at five forty-five, so they didn't have the time to visit every one.

"Which one would you like to go to?" asked Danny once they were situated inside and had looked over the brochure well enough.

"How about the Guggenheim gem collection?" asked Bridget. "That looks interesting."

Not that everything else didn't look interesting, but after spending the entire day at the diner full of rude customers, the last thing she wanted to do was spend more time around a bunch of Neanderthals. But as Bridget would learn, going into that section of the museum would be a huge mistake for her psyche.

Why? Well, as it turned out, the more gemstones she saw, the more she was reminded of wedding rings; and wedding rings reminded her of beautiful diamond engagement ring that Andrew had given her.

It seemed like everywhere she turned, there some memory of Andrew was.

"Are you hungry?" Danny asked as the museum was about to close.

"I guess," Bridget responded absentmindedly. Her mind was still on Andrew.

"Well, I know of a really good hotdog vendor near Central Park," Danny said. "We could get something there, if you wanted."

"Sure," she said. "I'd love a hotdog." But, her mind wasn't on food.

Once they made it to the vendor, Danny ordered a hotdog full of sauerkraut and mustard, something Bridget had never seen before. It was certainly something Andrew would never eat. Of course, she didn't mean to compare the two men. It was simply an observation. She ordered a hotdog with ketchup, that was it, as she wasn't too keen on eating anyway. They sat down on a bench inside the park, right next to the lake so they could watch the people sailing in the boats. Danny said it was a favorite pass time of his when he wanted to get away.

"So where are you from?" Danny asked her as they sat down and began to eat.

She was taken aback, but, of course he would ask her that question. It was only natural of him. They had spent so much time talking about his life that it was probably time to talk about hers. Nevertheless, she hesitated.

"Rock Springs," she finally said, not wanting to lie any more. "It's in Wyoming."

"Oh neat," he said after swallowing a bite, "So you were in the mountains?"

"Sort of," she said, staring down at her uneaten hotdog. "It wasn't the nicest place in the world, that's for sure. A lot of drug activity and crime, especially the part where I lived. I didn't like it much."

"What about your family?" he asked. "Do they live in Wyoming, too?"

She hesitated. Her family? Ha. What family? She had no one.

"I don't have a family," she said sadly, her eyes beginning to tear up as her mind tried to block out Siobhan and Andrew. "I did once. I mean, I had a sister and…a man who loved me. But," the tears began to fall. "I hurt them…I made a mistake… and now they're gone."

She wiped her cheeks and turned her attention toward the water, watching a group of people dancing to music on a small riverboat.

"I'm sorry," Danny said, his gentle voice filled with deep concern. "Is there anything I can do?"

Bridget shook her head. "No," she said, still staring at the people. "I just have to move forward somehow."

The ride back to Bridget's apartment was practically silent, except for the rattling of the wheels on the street and the dim sound of country music from the radio. Danny walked her to her apartment door and tried to whisper last words of comfort.

"It'll be ok," he said. "I've been through quite a few bad relationships myself, and I know how hard it can be to let go, believe me. But, everything works out in the end."

Bridget smiled weakly. "Thanks," she said. "Sorry if I ruined our time together."

"No," he said, smiling. "It was perfect."

And that's when it happened. Impulsively, she kissed his cheek, and before she knew it, Bridget was kissing his lips. Was it because she wanted to block all memory of Andrew from her mind for good? Was it because she thought that with a single kiss everything would somehow be magically better? She didn't know. The kiss itself lasted for no more than a few seconds, and soon Bridget was inside her apartment, alone, reminiscing about what had just happened.

No fireworks, none of that "foot lifting" magic that was in so many old movies. It was just a kiss, and all Bridget could see in her mind when it was over was a tall, dark-haired Welshman.

Danny Reeb was no Andrew Martin.

* * *

It had only been a day since Juliet had come home from her stint in rehab, and Andrew already doubted its effects. She had been gone all day, refusing to answer any of his texts and calls. He had no doubt in his mind that she was at another party, doing more drugs and drinking more alcohol, but what more could he do? He had no help, no one to give him any advice or tell him how to fix his daughter for good. Most importantly, there was no one to whom Juliet would listen even if he had help.

He knew in the back of his mind that the only person she would listen to was Bridget, but could he contact her? He paced around his living room, trying to think. He wanted nothing more than to see her again anyway, but he couldn't get over everything that she had done to him.

_What about everything _you _did? _ Said a voice inside his head. _You lied, you cheated, you stole, and you led everyone on for years. You're just as bad as she is._

No, no. He shook his head. It wasn't the same thing at all.

Was it?

He had to block it from his mind. He couldn't think about her. This was about Juliet and her struggles. He had to help her somehow, without Bridget.

He had to find out where Juliet was. He started by searching her room. he turned over her mattress, torn open her backpack, looked through every drawer, panicking, trying to find something. Finally, it was nearing seven o'clock in the morning, and he found something: a purple slip of paper with the name "Holland Mazer" on the front and an address underneath it. The date for the party said was today, so he knew this had to be the place where Juliet was. There was no doubt in his mind. He had to get there before she hurt herself.

* * *

Her whole world was spinning and she didn't care that it was because of drugs and alcohol. She was free, free from her father and mother, free from all control that they had over her. She danced, she laughed, and she partied until dawn. Until her father showed up at Holland Mazer's doorstep.

First there was a pounding on the door so loudly that it woke everyone asleep in the living room up, and Juliet just happened to be one of them. She awoke with her head over the side of the couch, her hair stuck to the side of her face with drool and a crick in her neck.

"Oh my God," she whispered as she lifted her head and tried to crack her neck. "Who is that?"

"Probably just somebody playing a joke," said Holland from her sleeping bag on the floor. She yawned. "They did the same thing last weekend, but my dad was here with his shotgun, so they ran away."

"Ugh!" Juliet pulled her blanket over her head to stifle the noise, but the person pounding on the door wouldn't go away.

Then she heard him. "JULIET! JULIET! COME HERE RIGHT NOW!"

It was her father. She would have recognized his accent anywhere, no matter how thick the doors were. But, instead of opening the door for him, she ran up the stairs. However, Holland, wanting to go back to sleep to get rid of her hangover, opened the door.

"Hello, Mr. Martin," Juliet heard her saying politely, albeit her speech was a bit slurred. "How can I help you?"

"Holland, where is Juliet? I want her to come home right now! Where is she?"

"Umm…."

"Juliet!" he called. "Where are you?"

She could hear his footsteps racing up the stairs, so she ran into the bathroom. _Slam! _ The door shut and she knew instantly that she had made a mistake in letting it go, because, in a split second, Andrew burst opened the door.

"Juliet, why did you not tell me you were here?" His voice was level now, as though actually looking at his daughter calmed him down, ever so slightly.

"How did you even know where I was?" she asked him, curling up into a fetal position and grabbing hold of the rug, as if that could shield her from her father's wrath.

"I found the address in your room," he said evenly, staring down at her. "It took me all night to find it. Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

But, she didn't say anything. She kept her face down, refusing to look at him. That is, until he picked her up and carried her out of the house, screaming. Andrew forced her into the back of the limo while she continued to squirm.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she shouted. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Why are you doing this to _me_?" Andrew asked as the limo began to drive away. "Why are you doing it to _yourself_? You don't understand that you're ruining your life!"

"It wouldn't _be_ ruined if Bridget were here," she said. "Why can't you just go ask her to come back?"

"Is this really what all this is about? All these drugs and drinking? It's really all about Bridget?" he asked, his face turning very pale.

But, Juliet wasn't going to say anything else. She knew nothing would change his mind, so she sulked like a baby the entire way home.

"Leave me alone!" She shouted as soon as the door to the elevator opened. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" She ran to her room and buried herself in her bed covers, never wanting to talk to her father again.


	7. Something Good's Going to Happen

**Ringer, Season 2**

**Hello everyone! Thank you to everyone who is reading, but no one is reviewing. Please do so!**

**Thank you!**

**Chapter Seven: Something Good's Going to Happen**

By early Monday morning, one A. M. to be exact, Juliet had made up her mind. She had come up with, to quote Alice, "a crazy, mad, wonderful idea" that was to bring Bridget back into her life. She crept quietly into the kitchen and opened the cabinet on the left above the stove. That was where Andrew kept all the medicine. She knew that if she took the Tylenol, he wouldn't miss it. Andrew never got headaches and by now, his gunshot wound would be healed enough to where he wouldn't need any, she was sure. So she took the bottle and put it in her purse, but not before making sure that there were enough pills for her to accomplish her deed.

She had it all planned out. She would take them all at lunch time, around noon, and by three o'clock, she would be vomiting and so clammy that she would have to be taken to the hospital. Andrew would be notified and then he would know why she did it. He would have no choice but to go get Bridget.

Maybe it was a desperate attempt, but Juliet decided that, if her mother could do it and get the attention she wanted, then why couldn't Juliet?

With a final look at her purse, she smiled and sent herself back to bed.

* * *

At seven o'clock that morning, Andrew awoke to find his daughter sitting at the breakfast table, humming to herself. He was surprised. He hadn't seen her this happy in weeks and wasn't sure if he would ever see it again, at least not for a long time.

"Hi Daddy," she said brightly as he entered the room. She walked up and kissed his cheek. "How are you today?"

"I'm doing fine," he replied, so surprised at her actions that he paused on his way toward the coffee maker. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing great," she smiled. "I can't wait for school today. It's gonna be a blast."

"Why?" he asked, never having heard Juliet talk about school in such a light manner.

"It just is," she said. "I feel like something good's going to happen today."

"Good," he smiled to himself. Maybe she was finally coming around.

* * *

By the time Bridget reached the diner on Monday morning, she was in a daze. She had no idea how to break it off with Danny, even though they were never officially a couple. She needed to explain to him her feelings for Andrew and how starting a new relationship right now was not in the cards for her.

It was a blessing and curse not to find him in the diner the moment she walked inside. A blessing because she didn't actually want to confront him, a curse because she had to.

"So," but of course, Annette was the one to bring up the subject and make Bridget feel even worse, "how was your date?" she asked as soon as she bounded toward the kitchen to deliver her first and—judging by the silence of the diner—only order for quite a while. It was, after all, only six o'clock in the morning. The rush wasn't usually until eight. Still, Danny was always one to come in bright and early, which was why Bridget was keeping a look-out for him.

"No fireworks," Bridget decided to reply simply and honestly. "I think we're just going to be friends."

"Aw," Annette was clearly disappointed. "Why? He would be so good for you!"

Bridget sighed. "I'm just not ready for a new relationship right now." Truthfully, she didn't know if she would _ever_ be ready.

* * *

Lunch time finally rolled around, and Juliet decided to fill her stomach with as much pepperoni pizza and French fries as possible. Otherwise, on an empty stomach, she would have thrown up all the Tylenol.

"For such a skinny girl, you sure do eat a lot," Andrea observed as she sat down next to her and began eating her own lunch of a salad consisting of limp lettuce and cherry tomatoes.

"I know," Juliet explained, wiping her mouth with her napkin. "I've got a really high metabolism."

Once she had finished her meal, she grabbed her purse and went straight to the vending machine to get two bottles of water. Then, she would be on her way to the bathroom. She only hoped now that the food she ate wouldn't absorb the effects of the Tylenol on her body. As soon as she made it to be bathroom, she headed to the first open stall, which, unfortunately for her immaculately clean state of mind, was full of pee. Yuck! She flushed the toilet, disgusted, wiped down the lid with some toilet paper, and sat down on top of it. Then, slowly and carefully, she reached into her purse and took out the medicine, turning the cap to where the arrows aligned. As the top came off, Juliet's stomach began to fill with butterflies, and it wasn't from the food she had just consumed.

Was she doing the right thing? She looked down at the little red capsules. _Maybe not, _she decided, but it was the only way to get Bridget back. So she did it, little by little, with the help of her water, she sat there in the bathroom, listening as girls came and went around her, and swallowed all the pills.

She was already starting to fill the effects of them when she left the bathroom. Her brain was beginning to fog over and her stomach hurt, but she acted like nothing was wrong. She had to wait it out until her symptoms got worse.

And by seventh period trigonometry, they had. Just as Mr. Richards was starting to go over the elements of pi, sine, and cosine in a circle, Juliet's symptoms really began to take a hold of her. Her skin had become so clammy and her stomach so torn up with pain, that she began to vomit profusely. In the background, just before she collapsed and blacked out, she could hear someone, presumably Mr. Richards, calling an ambulance, and couldn't help feeling a sense of satisfaction. Her plan was working.

* * *

He checked his watched. It was nearing three o'clock and he couldn't help reflecting on Juliet. The more he thought about it, the more concerned he was. Why had she been so happy this morning? Normally, he wouldn't be so thoughtful about it, but right now, it felt wrong. How could she have gone from hating him and slamming doors to humming and kissing him? Something was definitely wrong, and if he was right, then it had everything to do with drugs.

He decided to leave the office early that day in order to search Juliet's room before she came home. If it was drugs, then it had everything to do with that party was at on Saturday. She had to have brought something home, and if there was something she was hiding, then he would have to find it.

* * *

Siobhan decided to wait until three o'clock to go to her apartment on Park Avenue, mainly because she knew Andrew would be out of the house at that time, and if Bridget wasn't there, she would wait for her. She spent the day shopping around for new clothes and jewelry. After all, she was Siobhan Martin, she couldn't be stuck wearing a hideous brown frock forever.

She finally picked out a black Burberry trench coat, Gucci sunglasses, and a nice Coach purse with a gold zipper. She spent a total of five thousand, two hundred dollars. Not so bad, and she still had plenty of money left over. Not that she was worried about money. Soon she would come in to all she was worth and more.

After shopping, she threw out the bags and put everything on. Of course, she had to look chic and stylish. She couldn't walk around looking like a freak, now, could she?

When she got to her apartment complex, she discovered a new doorman by the name of Clancy, according to his name tag, and Clancy was not one to let just anyone in under his patrol.

"Name, please?" he said sternly. "I must have your name or you can't come through."

She rolled her eyes. Didn't he know Bridget by now? "Siobhan Martin," she said. "S-I-O-B-H-A-N –M-A-R-T-I-N."

Clancy typed in her name into his computer."Yes." he said. "There you are. See?"

He turned the monitor to reveal to her a picture of Andrew and Bridget, along with the names "Andrew and Siobhan Martin" and the apartment they stayed in.

"Ok," she said. "Can I go to my apartment now?"

He nodded without saying another word and she left, flustered and irritated. She went to the elevator and unlocked it. What a bunch of worthless people she had to deal with, she thought as she went up. She was just glad to finally be home, and she couldn't wait to get back to being herself. When the elevator opened, she found that the entire foyer had been redone. There was new ceiling, new hardwoods, and a new couch. But, she was astonished to find that her beloved portrait was also gone. But, then she remembered that that Macawi had stabbed it. Of course, Andrew and Bridget would have gotten rid of it. But, still, it was sad to see. It was one of her favorite photographs ever taken. However, that turned out to be the least of her problems.

Because when she stepped out onto the threshold of her home, from around the corner came her overbearing and foolish husband.

* * *

He had just come out of Juliet's bedroom, looking everywhere for drugs, when he heard the elevator doorbell _ding, _signaling its opening. He rushed to see who could possibly have entered. Bridget certainly wouldn't have come back so boldly, would she? But, when he saw who it was, his heart stopped.

He knew instantly that she wasn't Bridget. The way she was dressed, the way her hair was pulled back so tightly in that signature bun of hers, the high, queen-like look she had in her eyes, surveying the differences in the house and the shock on her face he noticed when she saw him. She was Siobhan, plain as day.

"Oh, he-hello, Andrew," she said, clearly not expecting him, but trying to look happy to see him. He was not impressed. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," he said coldly. Then, a sudden rush of anger overtook him and he had to let it out. "How _dare _you come to my house after everything you have to done me, Siobhan? How _dare _you come in here after you ruined my family? Get out!"

A look of realization passed over her face and she smiled. "So, you found me out, which means you found out about Bridget, no doubt? How did it feel to screw a whore?" She walked closer to him. "Was she as good as me? I can't believe you actually fell in love with such a low-life, worthless, bitch! That piece of shit! She's probably off fucking someone else now, isn't she?"

Then, as he stood there, looking at his wife and seeing the coldness and the hatred in her eyes, he saw her for what she truly was: a witch, and evil, lying, manipulative witch. But, he also saw something else. He saw Bridget for who she truly was.

"Your sister was not worthless," he said suddenly. "She was beautiful. She was everything in a woman that you're not, everything that I needed and wanted." Then, he heard himself say the words that he never thought he would admit to anyone: "I _love _her." His heart felt strangely warmed and free. "And that's why I'm going to ask her to forgive me. I never should have kicked her out. I should have forgiven her the moment she told me who she really was."

And with that, he stormed passed his wife and out of the apartment, no longer caring what she did or where she went or if she stayed. He just had to find Bridget.

Once he got down to the lobby, he took out his phone, and ignoring the five missed phone calls (all were from Arbogast, probably about a new investor), he searched for Solomon's number. He knew he had it in his phone somewhere, but he never thought he would actually use it again. Finally, he found it, pressed "Call," and impatiently waited for the man to pick up.

"Solomon Vessida, how may I be of service?" the man on the other end of the line finally said.

"Solomon, this is Andrew Martin," Andrew said, his voice shaking. "I need to find Bridget."


	8. It's Not Your Fault

**Ringer Season 2**

**Hey guys! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed thus far. Please continue to do so!**

**Chapter Eight: It's Not Your Fault**

Siobhan couldn't believe what had just happened. Apart from Henry weeks before, she had never been rejected so flatly. She stood in Andrew's (because, really, what claim did she have to it anymore?) apartment and pondered her next move.

How would she find a hit man now? How would she get all of Andrew's money? And how on Earth was she going to get Henry out of prison, because she knew once she did that he would forgive her. He just had to. He would see how much he meant to her.

* * *

Andrew had instructed Solomon to drive him to Bridget's work as fast as possible, but he hadn't expected there to be this much traffic. They were behind a bus and were next to a construction site, so the entire road was blocked on the right side. Solomon tried to use his GPS to find an alternate route to the diner, but, as it turned out, there wasn't one. So, they were stuck, waiting for the bus to be allowed to pass so they could get on their way.

To pass the time, Andrew decided to check the messages on his phone. He knew they were all from Arbogast, but as much as he wanted to avoid the older man, Andrew knew he couldn't. That was the price of having a boss. He turned his Blackberry to voice mail and began to listen.

"Andrew, where are you?" the voice on the other end of the line sounded panicked. It was surprising. "Your daughter's school just called. They said she's very sick. They called an ambulance to take her to the hospital. Good Shepherd Memorial. Please, hurry and get there."

Andrew's heart stopped. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. How could his daughter be so ill as to need the hospital? It scared him to death.

"Solomon," he breathed, his whole body beginning to shake in fear. "We have to go Good Shepherd Memorial. Now!"

"Why?" the chauffeur asked. "What's wrong?"

"Juliet's there! I have to go to her. Her school sent her there. She's really sick. We have to turn around."

Bridget could wait. His daughter's life was more important.

But, since they couldn't turn around, Solomon passed the bus hastily and tried going another route. It took them thirty minutes, but finally, they made it to the hospital. Andrew tore through the lobby, ignoring the various people who were in line at the front desk. He cut in front of a large woman with bright red hair who was apparently filling out some form or another.

"My name is Andrew Martin," he said. "I need to know where my daughter, Juliet, is." He didn't that the woman behind him was yelling at him for being so rude. His whole mind was in a panic. What could have possibly happened?

The receptionist typed in Juliet's name at her computer. "Juliet Martin, you said? She's in room 204, on the next floor, down the hall and to the left of the reception desk."

"What happened to her?" he asked.

"Uh…" the woman raised her glasses above her eyes. "They ran a tox screen. Apparently, she overdosed on acetaminophen. It doesn't say anything else here."

Andrew was in shock. How could his daughter have done something like that to herself? A whole wave of emotions poured into him. Fear, guilt, anger. He didn't know which one was the truth or which was the most prevalent. They were all coming in such a rush. He bolted down the hallway and up a staircase, pushing people out of his way as he went, not caring what they were doing or where they were going. He looked in every room on the second floor, until he found her: she was nothing more than a mass of tangled brown hair with tubes jutting out of her mouth.

Upon seeing her, Andrew grabbed her IV-ridden hand and kissed it. He didn't even notice the doctor in the room until she addressed him.

"Are you Mr. Martin?" the tall Indian woman asked him.

"Y-yes," he stuttered, trying to pull himself together. "What happened?"

"At first, when she came in, we weren't sure what was wrong with her. So, we ran a tox screen, since her symptoms were similar to that of an overdose," the woman said.

"Yes, yes, I heard it all downstairs." Andrew didn't want to hear any repetitions. All he wanted was for his daughter to be alright.

"We pumped her stomach," the woman continued, as though she hadn't been interrupted at all. "We tried to get as much of the toxins out as possible, but her liver is already very damaged because she overdosed on about fifty pills." Andrew began to shake even more. How could she have taken that much?

"We're trying an acetylcysteine repletion," the doctor said, gesturing to the IV that was being pumped into Juliet's arm. "If that doesn't work, then we'll have to do a full liver transplant."

Andrew nodded. "Yes," he said. "Whatever, as long as she's ok."

"We're trying, Mr. Martin," and with that, she left, leaving Andrew alone with his possible dying daughter. That was when he broke.

He put his head down on the bed, still clasping her hand, and burst into tears.

* * *

When Danny finally came to the diner around four, around the end of Bridget's shift, she had convinced herself (with a lot of help from Annette and Megan) that Danny was a nice enough man to hold on to a little while longer. Maybe she could go out on a few more dates with him and see how it turned out then. She knew she couldn't sit and mope around about Andrew for the rest of her life. What kind of woman would she be if she did that?

No, she had to be strong and move on with her life. So, when Danny came into the diner, dirty from a long day of work, and greeted her with a kiss, she kiss him back. They talked for a while in one of the booths before Bridget went up to her apartment to take a nap.

However, she didn't sleep long, because soon, Solomon was pounding on the door.

"Bridget!" he shouted. "Bridget! Are you home? You need to come out now!"

"What is it?" she asked as she opened the door, albeit rather sleepily. "What's wrong?"

"It's Juliet," said Solomon. "I just drove Andrew to the hospital. She's really sick. They think she overdosed on Tylenol."

"Oh, my God," she said, her voice cracking. Before Solomon could say another word, she had flown out the door and down to the limo. Her heart was pounding. Had Juliet tried to poison herself? Why?

"It's going to be ok," said Solomon as he started the engine. "They'll make sure she's alright."

"Why did Andrew call you?" asked Bridget. Solomon wasn't _his _chauffeur.

"Because…." Then, Solomon's voice became nothing more than a whisper. "He's was trying to get back with you."

"_What_?"

"He told me that he wanted to ask for your forgiveness and tell you that he'd forgiven you. He wanted you to come back, Bridget." Bridget's heart continued to pound, her mind racing. "But, then he got a call from his boss saying that Juliet was in the hospital, so I had to take him. I decided I would go back and get you."

What? Andrew wanted to get back with her? What about Juliet? Did she want it? Was that why she had tried to hurt herself? She had wanted nothing more than for Andrew to forgive her, and now that he had, now that Juliet was as sick as she was, Bridget knew it was time to go back to them, to be with them forever. As they drove, Bridget made up her mind and took out the piece of paper with Danny's number from her pants' pocket.

"Solomon, I need to use your phone," she said.

"Why?" he asked, not understanding why making a phone call was so important right now.

"Because…because I have to let Danny know what's going on," she said.

He nodded and took his phone out of his pocket. "Here."

She took the phone and dialed Danny's number. When the phone went straight to voice mail, she decided to leave a message.

"Hello, Danny," she began. "It's Bridget. Um," her voice began to choke and she tried to hold back tears. "I just received a message from my…old boyfriend and he told me that his daughter's very sick. She overdosed on Tylenol and she's in the hospital. I'm sorry, but, I have to go back to them. They need me and I just can't be with you…I'm sorry."

It was one of the hardest things she had to do in her life, but she could never leave Andrew and Juliet again. As soon as they made it Good Shepherd Memorial, Bridget tore out of the car and into the hospital, not caring whether or not Solomon followed. She had to get to Juliet.

The receptionist on the first floor appeared flustered when she noticed Bridget, out of breath, running towards the desk.

"Are you alright?" the woman asked, concerned.

"Yes," Bridget panted. "I need to find my stepdaughter. Her name is Juliet Martin."

"Juliet Martin," the woman repeated the name as she typed it into her computer. "Here it is," she said. "Room 204. Your husband is already there."

"Thank you," and Bridget ran down the long hallway up the stairs faster than her legs could carry her. She didn't care that she was still in her waitressing uniform or that people were staring as she ran. They could stare all they wanted.

_Room 200, 201. _It was such a long hallway that finding the room was near impossible, especially with the nurses and doctors moving down it so slowly.

Finally, Bridget sighed. Room 204. The door was shut, but she didn't care. She wasn't disturbing anyone, not if Andrew wanted her to be there. She pushed it open, and there they were. Juliet was lying on the bed, unconscious, with more wires and tubes in her than Bridget could count, and Andrew was crying, sobbing, into the bed. Nevertheless, he looked around to see who had entered and his eyes widened.

* * *

He had expected to find Dr. Patel staring at him as he looked around at the open door, but instead, he looked, shocked, into the eyes of Bridget Kelly. He supposed he should have expected Solomon to bring her after everything that had happened, but he had not. Her eyes were filled with tears, her face stained with them, and she was still dressed in her waitressing outfit. Truthfully, she looked a mess, but probably not any more of a mess than he looked. They stared at each other for a few moments, neither one knowing how to react to the other's presence.

But, Andrew made the first move and before he knew it, the two of them were hugging and kissing passionately, their tears mingling.

"I'm so sorry," he said when they broke apart. "I should have forgiven you as soon as you told me the truth." He couldn't hold any of it in. "I was such a hypocrite. I should have never judged you." He wiped his eyes, but the tears kept coming.

"It's alright," she said, tears still flowing. "I forgive you."

They continued to cry in each other's arms, both for themselves and for Juliet, but mostly for Juliet. The state of their relationship could be resolved later. Now, it was time to worry about their daughter.

"So what happened?" Bridget finally asked, obviously wanting to hear Andrew's version, although he was in the dark just as much as she was.

"She was at school and started vomiting," he replied, wiping his face again. "They didn't know what was wrong with her so they ran some tests and they found that she'd swallowed a bunch of Tylenol."

He felt horrible. He knew that it was his fault. He should have known that she was capable of doing something like this. How could he have been so gullible and stupid?

He hung his head, but Bridget made him look her in the eye.

"I know what you're thinking," she said," and it's not your fault."


End file.
